Sick & Tired
by Tick Tock
Summary: Please review. How can I get it right if you don't tell me what's wrong? I've given Clark something he was very much in need of, a backbone. And I've given him free reign to use it.


Disclaimer: Don't own them. Chlark and every other character out there in Smallville is the property of DC Comics and WB. Too bad, I'd do a better show and make a bundle. Oh well...  
  
Rate: PG-13. As with all my fics, this one will get way more adult oriented. So stay off it kiddies, grow some hair on your chest... or other parts of your anatomy.  
  
Sick and Tired - a Smallville coming of age romance.  
  
"You can either sit on your barn and play with your telescope... or you can move on." And with that, Chloe turned around way from Clark and headed down the hall, clutching the survey board to her breast and leaving her best friend with a puzzled frown on his face.  
  
*What's up with Chloe?* Thought Clark. *What did she mean by that? Uh, gotta go home. I'll figure it out later.*  
  
+++  
  
*...but I don't see what Chloe could mean. Was she mad? Is there something for her to be mad about? Did I do anything to upset her? Girls. Confusing.* The path home was the same he'd always taken. And seeing as he was walking home alone, there was nothig to distract Clark from his musings.  
  
*Wait; girls. She got all serious after I made that comment about Lana being off limits. Why? Sure I seem to always to talk to her about Lana, but I didn't say anything dif... I always talk to her about Lana. And she does seem to get a tad more cynical when she's brought up. Could she resent it? But why? We're best friends. If I can't talk about my feelings with my best friend, who can I... But we never talk about her feelings, do we? Whenever our talks turn to themes romantic, shall we say, I have the amazing ability of bringing up Lana "the pom-pom princess" - god but she has it in for her - so we never do talk about what she may feel. God, Clark, could you be just a little more insensitive towards your supposedly best friend?* As if to match his mood, he felt a rain drop trickle down his face. Guess he wasn't the only one feeling stormy and blue.  
  
*Think Kent, not that you've done such a good job of it lately, if ever. Why does a girl who proffesses to be your best friend, but a girl nonetheless, mind whether you talk about and moon over a popular, beautiful girl? Forget about the fact that girls make no sense at all; if Chloe is my friend then I have to figure it out. Why does anyone mind if whoever they're talking with can't stop talking about someone else than they? Why do I get disheartened whenver Lana brings up Whitney? Oh drat. Clark, you moron!! Chloe has feelings for you!! And if I had to guess they're not exactly sisterly at that.* Clark slapped his forehead in complete and utter amazement. The depth of his absortion proved by the clap of thunder accompanying it. He tended to forget his own strength at times like these. At the same time, the skies opened above him and the amount of water pouring from them rose exponentially, effectively drenching him on the spot. Clark new he should hurry up and get home, Ma didn't take kindly on extra work, and him showing upwith his clothes absolutely soaked she would look upon as extra work. No doubt about it. It shouldn't be a problem, really. With his abilities he could get home in no time, completely dry and still have time to play a game of catch with the raindrops. But he did nothing of the sort. His mood was as dark as the clouds up above him, and he felt no inclination towards avoiding something which in a distorted way felt as something of an atonenement. And he didn't want to see his parent's just yet. Actually, he didn't want to see his father just yet. Because... in a roundabout way, he felt Pa was responsible for this frelled up situation. And he had to cool off Farscape, if he was using their words then he was watching too much of the show.  
  
So Chloe had feelings for him. And he was guessing they were up there with his own crush on Miss Lang, although they couldn't. They had to be way stronger, because they were best friends, and he'd seemingly hurt her so bad she was willing to let go of that friendship. So no, his crush on Lana could in no way compare to what Chloe must feel for him. Because in all honesty, he wasn't about to ditch his relationship with the spunky editor of the Torch - whatever it may be - for a shot at "something" with Lana Lang. Push came to shove, if it meant choosing between Lana and Chloe, he'd choose his friend over Smallville High's Princess anyday of the week. Question now was, what were his own feelings towards Miss Chloe Sullivan, investigative reporter?  
  
*What do you feel Clark?* That was the key of the matter, wasn't it? He could make it all right, but he had to be clear on how he felt. Otherwise he stood to lose both his friendship with Chloe and whatever he could have with Lana. *So what kind of a man are you Kent? What do you want?* He had to find out before he hurt anyone else.  
  
Squaring his shoulders, Clark headed into the storm and towards the family farm, a resolute air about him.  
  
+++  
  
"...and I'm telling you Martha, the way it's coming down Clark and I will have our work cut out for us tomorrow." Backing into the house, Johnathan Kent kept up the comentary for the benefit of his wife. That and the several farming implements in his arms kept him from noticing the teenage boy headed his way. The very angry teenage boy. It wasn't untill Clark tried to squeeze past him into the kitchen that he actually took notice of his son.  
  
Johnathan's face lit up. Clark was just what he needed. "Son, come on out and give me a hand with the tarps, will you?." That said, Johnathan headed under the downpour to try and keep his livelihood from rusting, sure that his well behaved and responsible son would follow suit. Wrong. "Can't right now, Pa." Said Clark without looking back. "I've something to take care of." His father came back into the house, raindrops dripping from his bushy eyebrows, the shock in his face as clear as that of his wife.  
  
"Excuse me? You have something to take care of?" If Clark had been anyone else or less distracted, he would have taken notice of the edge in his father's voice. "Since when is anything more important than caring for the instruments which allow us to make our living? Clark, are you listening to me young man?" Later on, Martha would wonder if it was Johnathan's mounting anger which kept him from seeing her son's back tense-up and sensing the trouble, or if her husband had always been that blind.  
  
"Yes Pa, I hear you. I just can't be bothered." Calrk answered without turning. "Right now my life takes preference." His parents' jaws were ever closer to the floor. If he kept it up they might need medical attention. Tough.  
  
John could not believe his ears. "What do you mean your life takes preference' I'll have you know, young man, that..." Pa Kent, however, could not finnish whatever he meant to say for at that moment his son interrupted him rather forcefully.  
  
"You heard me, Pa. My life. The life you have taught me to keep secret from everyone for years. The life I have not been allowed to live. The life I am entitled to! That life!" Clark was on a roll. He had his parents' attention and he menant to get in every word he possibly could. "All my life you've pounded into me the necessity of keeping my true self secret from others. You've taught me to lie, to stay away from others as soon as they suspect something. I've kept everyone at arms length my whole life. I'm seventeen and I've never had a girlfriend. I've never played any team sports, nor any solo sports in case I was too good at them. I've had to take abuse from every single bully to come my way, giving further proof to everyone of how pathetic I was. For years you and I have isolated me. I grew up afraid of my shadow. I can bench press an adult bull, for crying out loud. I've felt so alone, only because I was different. And then last year you tell me I'm an alien? Don't do me any favours Pa!! If I felt alone before, imagine how I feel now that I know I'm the only one of my kind on this planet. Know what? Don't. Because you can't even beguin to comprehend how I feel." By now Clark was quiverign in not-so-silent rage. "Now if you'll pardon me, I've got a whole lifetime of mistakes to make up for." Leaving a couple of very surprised and very frightened parents in his wake, Clark mounted the stairs two at a time and entered his bedroom closing the door behind him.  
  
Once in his room, Clark took of his soggy jacket and stood in front of the telephone undecided. *Ok, get to it* And then he picked it up and started dialing.  
  
+++  
  
"Sullivan residence. Why hello, how are you son? Fine, fine. She's in her room. If you'll wait a moment..." Gabe Sullivan stood in front of the staircase and called his daughter. "Chloe!!! Clark's on the phone. Pick it up."  
  
TBC 


End file.
